Portia's Observations
by BarnumOnTheBrain
Summary: It's the night before Katniss and Peeta go into the arena for the first time, and Portia is in a less-than-sober state when Effie finds her. Portia wonders about Effie and Haymitch's relationship, and through a sleepy haze some of her suspicions are confirmed. We see Haymitch and Effie as Portia sees them. Mild Hayffie and Cinna/Portia. Oneshot.


**I wasn't entirely sure how to categorise this. It has smatterings of Portia/Cinna but it was originally supposed to be Hayffie. An evening through Portia's eyes, and how she sees Haymitch and Effie. Something quite different for me, quite a different style of writing and POV. Let me know what you guys think!**

* * *

I liked Effie. She was always very kind to me, especially in my first few weeks as one of the stylists for Twelve. She showed me around the Penthouse, she introduced me to Haymitch and made sure Cinna and I knew where to be when needed. She cared about the tributes, Peeta and Katniss, too. Cinna warmed very much to Katniss, I guess he just saw something in her that reminded him of himself. I liked Peeta very much too. He was polite and always had a lot of praise for my designs, and my team. He asked them questions that made them feel like they were more than just a prep team.

I couldn't quite make out what I thought of Haymitch. Cinna said he was man to be respected, a man who knew what he was doing, but I still remained cautious of him, especially when he had a few drinks. The thing that intrigued me the most about him, though, was the dynamic between him and Effie. At first I just assumed they loathed one another, the way they spoke sometimes. But after I watched them for a while, I began to wonder what else was there. Something, deep under all of the needling and teasing and sometimes rather heated arguments, was strong. It's like they had a bond, one that allowed them to push the other to the very edge because it was so unbreakable they would never quite push the other too far. Sometimes, it seemed as if they were one person, the way they thought, how they sometimes finished the other's sentence, or just knew what the other was thinking.

It was the night before the tributes entered the arena, and they had already gone to bed. Haymitch was sat on the sofa, hidden from view in his slouched position from where I was sat at the dining table. As my first year as stylist, I wasn't doing so well. The first few glasses of wine had lasted though dinner, but the rest of the bottle took only minutes to finish. Thankfully for me, I could hold my alcohol well.

The silence wasn't exactly awkward, as we were both almost at the mercy of drink, but it wasn't the most comfortable I had ever experienced, so when Effie walked in, I was relieved.

"Oh, hello Portia," she said looking startled, seeing me slumped in a chair at the table. "Rough night?"

"Something like that," I sighed, leaning forwards to pass her an opened bottle of wine.

She took it from me and sat down, looking at the label. A look crossed her face, a small smile at the memory of something to do with it or something. "Haymitch's favourite."

Haymitch didn't make a sound from where he was sat. Maybe he was passed out at this point, I wasn't entirely sure. But something kept me from mentioning him. "I didn't know he had a favourite kind of drink."

She couldn't hide her smile at that as she poured herself a small glass and took a small sip. "He has his moments of sophistication. They may be rare, but they're not unheard of."

I snorted, and she gave me reproachful look. Snorting at someone's words was rude, and I knew it, but I was drunk and I didn't really mind if she thought I was being impolite. "Sorry. I just can't imagine Haymitch and sophistication in the same scenario."

Her expression was soft as she looked lost in thought. "I can see how you see him. I used to be like that, but then I got to know him. There's a lot more to him that meets the eye." She took another sip of the red liquid and rested her chin on her hand. "He's just in a lot of pain."

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Maybe she meant physical, maybe it was his mind, but I got the sense his pain distressed her, the way her eyebrows knitted together. "You care about him very much, don't you?" It probably wasn't my place to ask – it was pretty personal – but I think she didn't quite dare ask herself it, so I thought I would help her out.

There was a pause as she was lost again in that far-away look. There was a hint of a smile in her eyes. I hadn't ever seen her look like this, not as peaceful or delicate as when she was thinking about something. Thinking about him. I found it odd. She obviously cared very deeply about this man that I thought very little of. It was like he was a completely different man to her as he was to me.

"I do," she answered finally, looking at me. "He's a very dear friend to me. Outside of my family, I haven't known anyone longer that I have known him, and you're bound to get attached to someone if you're in such intense environments as we are, yearly."

There was something behind her words, something that I wasn't completely sure of. I wanted to ask her if she was in love with him, but even with the wine clouding my mind, I knew that it wasn't my place to ask.

"So how are you holding up?" she asked after a few minutes of silence that were only broken by the sound of more wine splashing into her glass.

I leant forwards onto my arms that rested on the table and closed my eyes. "Well, I haven't drunk that much drink since I was in art college when someone told me that the drunker you are, the better drawings you can do."

"Oh?"

"Load of rubbish. Doesn't work. Cinna can vouch for me when I say I've never been sicker than I was the following morning." My voice was muffled by my arms, but she seemed to have heard me, as she laughed a little at that. I pulled my head out of my arms and sat up again. "And you?"

"Well, I just look at it like another year over. And then it all begins again. What am I to Twelve anyway? I'm nothing but a face. I have the hand of fate, the power to choose between life and death."

And then she covered her mouth at her own words, as if she had said something terrible.

"I'm sure you're more than that to them," I said, yawning. I wasn't disinterested, I was just suddenly tired. I think Effie knew this, because she just smiled at me and patted my hand.

"Go to bed, darling," she said softly, seeing my drooping eyelids.

"I'm waiting for Cinna to finish whatever he's doing," I mumbled, feeling sleep creeping up on me. "I'll just rest my head here for a while."

The last thing I remembered for a little while was putting my head into my arms on the table and feeling Effie stroke my hair lightly. I don't know how long I was sleeping for, but it can't have been long.

"Effie, it's okay," someone was saying not unkindly, somewhere to my left. It was odd, it sounded like Haymitch, but I couldn't be sure.

"I just wish I was more than just a faceless woman to them," came a distressed-sounding Effie. My eyes didn't want to open, but it sounded as if she was stood close to him, from where their voices had both come.

"I know," the man who sounded like Haymitch said in a relatively soothing voice. As quiet sobs came from Effie, there was a rustling sound with a light thud, as it sounded as if two people had just fallen into the plush couch.

The mumblings that followed were not distinct, but they remained in a gentle tone, and soon Effie's quiet crying had stopped. I cracked my eye open a little, and in the dim light I saw them. On the far sofa sat Haymitch and Effie. He was holding her very close to him, one hand around her shoulders and the other under her chin as he was tilting her lips to his. At the moment I opened my eye, one of her hands came up to take his away from her face and their fingers interlocked.

It seemed very sweet, very gentle, the way they were so close to the other, how they were kissing. It was quite nice to watch. The sheer gentleness between them confirmed what I had wondered. She did love him, and perhaps he loved her. The way he was holding her, so carefully, so lovingly, made me think he did.

After a moment, I thought that this was their moment, and it was not my place to intrude. So I turned my head and allowed them to just be them.

When Cinna woke me some hours later, Haymitch and Effie were long gone.

"You know Haymitch and Effie are in love, right?" I mumbled as he held me tight around the waist, guiding me to our room.

"Of course they are, darling," he replied quietly, not wanting to wake anyone.

"No, really," I insisted, resting my head on his shoulder.

"You're sleepy, and frankly, still quite drunk," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. "You're going to find that funny in the morning."

"Maybe," I sighed, my eyes refusing to open fully as he opened our door. Once inside, I just fell onto the bed, my arms and legs sprawling out around me. I think that night Cinna slept on the floor with just a pillow, seeing as I took up our entire bed.

I do wonder though, if Haymitch and Effie share a bed. Not for _that,_ but just in the normal way, in the way that a couple just sleep beside one another at night. But I don't think they do. I don't think they're the normal kind of couple. I hope they're happy though. I'm not entirely sure that they are, but I'm pretty sure, after seeing them together like that, that they would be much worse off without the other.

* * *

**So how was that? Please let know what you think :)**


End file.
